


Bromicide

by GlitchedGadget



Category: Homestuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-03-25 20:37:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3824299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlitchedGadget/pseuds/GlitchedGadget
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was never supposed to go this far.</p>
<p>Bro should have known when to quit when he had the chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Fifth Victim

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Maris here! This is my first fan fiction (Yay!), so I hope you enjoy it! More notes at the end to explain what exactly this is. Thanks!

Dave stared at the newspaper on his desk as the rest of the class poured into the room. _Fifth Murder Case in Fieldcrest Raises Suspicions of A Possible Serial Killer_ the headline read in bold, blocky black text. _Fieldcrest Suburbs residents grow anxious to capture the unknown assailant as the bodies slowly begin to pile up_ Dave read on, his mouth pressed in a firm line. His grip on the newspaper tightened, and no matter how he tried to move on, to distract himself with some other trivial topic of news, his red eyes continued to travel back to that ominous title. _Serial Killer_ the words screamed at him from the front-page, inducing a wave of hot, unbearable heat throughout his body. He swallowed hard, knowing fully well that this was NOT the news he needed to start off his day.  
Before he could plunge himself deeper into this transfixed state of clammy palms and bated breath, a hand smacked itself down upon his shoulder, causing Dave to freeze up immediately. His head snapped sideways to steal a glance at his assailant, and it wasn’t until he was met with a big, goofy overbite of a smile that he relaxed his tense shoulders, a wave of relief flooding over him like water over burning coals.

“Sheesh, man! What’s got you all wound up today?” A black haired boy inquired playfully, taking a seat next to Dave’s side. “You’re more tense than a guy with a stick up his ass,” he continued on with a snort, his hands busying themselves with the zipper of his backpack. Dave grunted in reply, his lips twitching up into a small smile. Leave it to Egbert to snap him out of the latest of the Anguished Strider Reveries.

“News,” Dave explained abruptly, sliding the dreaded newspaper over onto John’s desk. He had no intention on possessing the damn thing longer than he already had. “All those murders around here are sort of fucking me up.”

“Oh! Gosh, did they find _ANOTHER_ one?” John squeaked, his hands tentatively picking up the sides of the newspaper to read for himself. “Damn! That’s like-what? The fifth one these past three months?” He asked aloud, more to himself than anyone in particular. Dave emotionlessly watched John’s reaction from his own desk, his head propping itself up on one elbow. He would have acknowledged the fact that John’s answer was literally a part of the title, but knowing better than to be an ass and make light of the obvious, he allowed John some time to digest the newspaper’s information. “That’s pretty awful! Who was it this time? Not anyone we know, I hope!” John gulped, the newspaper ever so slowly inching towards his face.

“We’re in a small town, dude,” Dave reminded him without much gusto. “You need to rephrase the statement to: Hopefully not anyone we actually give two shits about,” he concluded with a jab of his finger onto the desk. John rolled his eyes, the newspaper still held tersely in his own hands.

“Real sensitive way to speak about the deceased, dude,” John scolded, his eyes returning to the fine print of the article. “But it looks like we’re lucky yet again: I have no idea who this guy is. But whoever he was, he DID go to our school, so…”

Before John could finish, the intercom buzzed to life, silencing the rambunctious voices of the teenagers surrounding them. _“Boys and girls, I am afraid I have some terrible news,”_ the principal spoke in a solemn tone, his demeanor one of remorse and mourning. John pointed upwards to the ceiling, as if indicating the voice resided in the skies. 

“Bingo. School-wide announcement. Followed by the inevitable-”

_“One of our own students, Nathan Whelan, has been discovered dead by the riverside early this morning. The cause of his death is yet to be discovered, but sources say they suspect… **foul play** ,”_ the speaker continued on, faltering as they struggled to finish the sentence. _“Due to this terrible loss, classes have been canceled until tomorrow’s notice. Please drive safely home and exercise caution outside of school grounds. We have reason to believe-ahm-”_ the speaker cut off, his voice choking up before he could fully articulate the appropriate wording he was looking for. Dave suppressed a sneer. There was no real way to delicately treat a warning against a rampaging lunatic. _“…to believe a serial killer is at large in our community. There is no reason to panic now, students. The authorities are putting their full efforts into solving this dilemma, and statewide backup is soon to arrive by tomorrow,”_ the principal assured meekly, though the extent of his consoling was obvious from the horrified expressions upon the teenagers’ faces. Dave shook his head in disgust. This was going too far too quick.

_“And so…with that being said…class…class dismissed,”_ the principal finally spluttered out before shutting the intercom down with fumbling, shaky hands. Everyone remained deathly silent, and it wasn’t until a girl abruptly bursted into tears did the classroom suddenly reanimate, half the students rushing to console her while the other half shuffled shamefully out, stuffed backpacks hanging loosely off of their hunched shoulders. John and Dave took their time to pack up as well, hoping their slowness would give them enough time to allow the hallways to unclog. 

“…Followed by the inevitable canceling of classes,” John restated quietly, a finger pointed in the air. Once somewhat indifferent by the death of a faceless classmate, the announcement had seemed to inflict realization upon John, forcing him to understand just how dire the news truly was.

“Thank you Nathan,” Dave muttered under his breath, far below his companion’s range of hearing. With their bags in tow, the two left the room, both heading towards the parking lot. Students had already infested the hallways, all of which either seemed to be crying, consoling, gossiping, or just flat-out scrambling to leave. Dave, while John offered his own commentary on the chaos surrounding them, took note of the varying expressions upon everyone’s faces. Dismay. Confusion. Sympathy. _Fear._ It twisted an already gnarled knot deep inside of him, and with every short cry or outburst bursting into life around him, he cringed more into himself. It was pathetic, and if his Bro had been around, he would have made a good point of acknowledging this. 

_“Expressions only give away what’s inside of you, Lil’ Man,”_ he remembered his older brother telling him one day, in a childhood memory of long ago. _“If you learn to control what’s on your face, you can protect the thoughts that are going on in your mind,”_ he had stated so plainly, making it seem like it was one of the most obvious, prevalent truths in the world. _“Crying is a sign of weakness, Dave, so don’t let me EVER see you cry.”_

And ever since then, he never had.

“Dave?”

Dave snapped out of his reverie, his head tilting slightly over to side glance his friend. “‘Sup?”

“You looked like you were spacing out there, dude…” John spoke worriedly, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Not that it’s easy to interpret what you’re thinking with those dumbass shades of yours always on,” he proceeded to snark, giving Dave a playful elbow in the side. Dave simply tisked, elbowing John right back with equal force.

“Dumbass shades _you_ gave me, dude,” he reminded with a tone of victory, knowing he had shot John’s insult straight out of the water.

“Yeah, but I only gifted them to you _ironically._ Now you wear them all the time like they’ve become surgically attached to your face!” John exclaimed with an exasperated skyward fling of his arms. 

“Well then it looks like your joke backfired,” Dave stated with a smirk, pushing the glasses a bit farther up the bride of his nose. John laughed in response, his messy mop of jet-black hair shaking back in forth in disbelief. 

“Now _that’s_ where you’re wrong. I **DID** come out the winner in one regard, that regard being I got you to take off those stupid ass anime shades you used to wear.”

Dave laughed, merely shaking his head. 

“Got me there, dude.”

He remembered receiving those shades. It always hovered at the back of his mind, patiently awaiting something to trigger its awakening so as to spring onto his mind and plunge him deep down onto Memory Lane. It had been his thirteenth birthday, and instead of throwing a party like most thirteen year olds did, Dave had spent the day wandering around the neighborhood with John. He remembered John constantly urging Dave to come home with him, to let him and his Dad throw their own personal celebration for the big one-three (seeing as Mr. Egbert would jump at ANY opportunity to bake a cake, and had been wanting to meet Dave in person for quite some time), but Dave had outright refused. Bro wouldn’t like that, he insisted. Didn’t like him runnin’ around to other people’s houses. John had tried and tried and tried and tried, even promising Dave that they could go to the movies and then afterwards host a sleepover, but even THEN Dave didn’t budge. So, completely warn out and defeated, John had submitted to unceremoniously giving Dave his present then and there.

_“Sorry it’s wrapped so awfully,”_ John muttered with a tone of shame, his eyes averting away from Dave’s own shaded gaze. _“Dad wanted to wrap it up in a whole bunch of glitter and stuff, so I told him I’d just wrap it myself.”_

Other than a set of electronic consoles, video games, cameras, and a DJing set he had received over a course of twelve Christmases (most of which Bro used himself), Dave had never received a birthday present before. Bro never found it too important, but on the occasional shift in mood, he WOULD sometimes acknowledge the event with a sparing comment or-if he was lucky-dinner of sorts. But never a gift. He hadn’t really thought it was special enough for one.

Very slowly, Dave had unwrapped the present as carefully as possible. He didn’t want to ruin anything about it.  
Shades. Round, run-of-the-mill things. Not the garish, attention-grabbing pointy set he kept fixated on his face every day. Oh no, these were genuine, honest to God shades. The kind he’d see others wear as he fought down the surmounting envy of being able to walk outside without being challenged for odd choice of eyewear. And now they were his. It felt real stupid, but for some reason Dave had wanted to cry right then and there, even IF it was right in front of John. Luckily enough (if you could even consider it “lucky”), from years of repressing the urge, he hadn’t really known at the time, and therefore, didn’t. He felt the want, but didn’t necessarily know the need, and with his incredulously one-tracked mind, the feeling was soon shrugged off as nothing more than possible whiplash from his last strife with bro, allowing the curious feeling to be efficiently nipped in the bud. He had more important matters to attend to anyhow, the main priority being resolving his sudden bout of confusion. Was John REALLY giving these up to him? Dave pried his eyes away from the shades to look up at John for confirmation; just to be sure this wasn’t some kind of PSYCHE, snag-the-shades-and-laugh-in-his-face-for-being-so-gullible sort of joke. John, as he had come to know, was all ABOUT pranks, and if there was one thing Dave knew, it was that he’d rather drop dead then let the scrawny kid rag on him all day for actually managing to pull off a successfully decent one. The scraggly boy flashed Dave a goofy grin, his arms shrugging up in chagrin. 

_“I know you like to cover your eyes 24/7 because you think it looks cool or something, so I decided to give you another style! Now you don’t have to wear those dumb anime ones anymore, heh-heh,”_ he chuckled teasingly, awaiting Dave’s response to his, in all actuality, highly sincere gift. Dave had had no words to give. None could find their way to his mouth. All he could think to do was take action, as had become instinct at that point. Slowly-as if unshedding a part of his very self, Dave took off his glasses. Or rather, the perfect duplicate of his BRO’S glasses.  
Dropping them to the ground, he replaced the scalene triangles with John’s gift.

_“Thanks dude.”_

At that moment, Dave had lost all the care he had stockpiled over the years of strife and mind games, even if it was for but one fleeting minute. He decided he’d just deal with Bro’s reaction to the change in apparel later.

“Hey- _Hey Dave!_ ”

Dave spluttered in surprise as he was swiftly choked by the collar of his own shirt. John reeled him back to his side as a car sped onwards, nearly driving clean over the blonde teenager. 

“Whooh! _Twice_ in one day? This is a new record, Dave. You either have something on your mind, or your IQ is significantly dropping by the minute and there is truly no hope for you,” John blurted out in exasperation, giving Dave a firm pat on the back to snap him out of whatever more mind-wandering he was doing. “You need to stop doing that before it becomes a bad habit, dude. As amazing of a friend as I am, I won’t always be here to save your ass from oncoming cars!” John nagged, giving him a soft punch on the arm. Dave bit his cheek with a wince, reluctantly taking John’s tirade with a weary groan.

“Fuck. Dude, I’m _sorry._ Sorry I rustled your jimmies and caused you to flip your shit. Jesus, calm down Egbert. It was just a _car._ ”

John stared at Dave in dissatisfaction.

“ _Just_ a car, Dave? Well geez! Guess I should of let it barrel you over, then. Silly me, overestimating the severity of almost getting run over!”

Dave groaned, shoving the palm of his hand into his face.

“Ugh-OK. Look: I’m sorry. I just got a lot of shit on my mind, is all. Can we just get to our cars and agree on hanging out at your place tonight? I’m tired and Bro probably won’t let me step one foot into the house without engaging in more bullshit ninja-strife escapades,” he carped, his hand still pressed firmly to his face. John grew quiet, the revelry in his victory dampened by Dave’s obvious exhaustion.

“Yeah-sure thing, dude. Come on over when you get the chance. I just traded shifts at work, so I don’t have to go back until next week,” John affirmed, keeping a wary glance on Dave as they traversed deeper into the jungle of a parking lot.

“Thanks man,” Dave sighed, the hand on his face slowly descending to his side. He didn’t even know why he asked. Almost every school-day after Dave had gotten his license, right after school let out, Dave had driven strictly over to John’s house. At first, John questioned why Dave kept coming over and sticking around his place when he obviously had just as much stuff to entertain him at home, but when Dave began to sleep more in the classrooms and showed up with bruises and welts lining the edges of his clothes, John quit asking. If anything, he began to urge Dave to come over, inviting him whenever he got the chance. The issue was never discussed, and the topic never broached, but Dave knew the little solace John provided wasn’t permanent. He would urge Dave to take action at some point, but until then, Dave was more than content with riding out the line of Strider Shitfest Sity and Egbert Household Utopia. 

On further thought, Dave mused, maybe he had just asked to change the subject.

After reaching their own respective cars, John unlocked his door before giving Dave a mock-salute.

“See you later, Dave! I hope you realize that no school means no homework, which invariably means a two hour video game tournament with no bathroom breaks when you get to my house. No relief, just regrets.”

“You say that like it’s anything but a good thing. See you in the fucking pit, Egbert. My bladder is made of steel, and no unorthodox amount of pissing abstinence can affect it,” Dave boasted from his own open driver’s seat. John laughed at the incredulous comment, and with a slow shake of his head, he ducked into his driver’s seat. With a shut of his door and a turn of the ignition key, John zoomed off, taking his place in a long line of cars waiting to evacuate the premises of the school. 

Dave watched him, stalling a minute before getting into his own car and turning the ignition key. He sat in his car, giving everything he had been mulling over that day much thought. He knew what he had to do when he got home, but the very prospect sent chills of undeniable fear down his spine. It wasn’t going to be easy. But shit was getting too hot to handle, and if Bro couldn’t see that yet, then by God, he’d make him. With a sigh and a few incoherent curses under his breath, Dave put the stick shift into reverse…

He nearly throttled the gas pedal and shit his pants simultaneously at the tap-tap-tapping of his side-view window. 

Shakily looking out, he was met eye-to-beautifully-violet-eye with the biggest snarker to have ever snarked this side of the equator. One Miss Rose Lalonde stood outside the window, a black-glossed smirk spread across the side of her face. Silently, she gestured for Dave to roll down the window, to which he begrudgingly did with a sigh and roll of his eyes.

“What’s up, Lalonde? Here to mack on me? I’m afraid I’ve already reached my unwanted flirting quota for the day and don’t need any more excess one-sided attraction unless I want to delve into Broad-Macking Inflation,” Dave spoke bluntly, having no real concern to mask his impatience.

“Broad-Macking Inflation? Oh dear, I’ll be damned if I take part in the ruination of a fictitious economy. I suppose I’ll just have to grab hold of my girly wiles-though as hard as it may be-and refrain from falling over you with lolled tongue and hardly contained arousal,” Rose quipped, that placidly devious smile still resting daintily on her face. Dave snorted, admonishing upon her yet another roll of the eyes.

“I appreciate the effort on your part. Is there anything else I can help you with then, or did you only come here to my fine caravan to speak sweet nothings into my open car window?” Dave pressed, his fists clenched on the driving wheel. As much as he loved Rose and her funny-but-also-infuriating rounds of wit and humor, now REALLY wasn’t the time to engage in it. He wasn’t in the right mood set for this shit anyways, and he knew for a fact that Rose was smart enough to observe this, which only irritated him further as to why she kept the ruse up.

“Sadly-or perhaps not-no. I was hoping to inquire about your current state of being, seeing as you have grown more elusive and are worrying _both_ of our more personal friends. Not to mention, me. And before you come up with a bullshit excuse for why you 'Don’t have time to go over this shit with you, Lalonde’, please take into account that my foot is placed in front of your front left tire and will not leave it’s highly vulnerable position until I feel satisfied with our conversation. But let me reiterate: How are you, Dave?” Rose spoke calmly and cheerfully, her purple-painted nails digging into the window of his seat. Dave opened his mouth to tell her he didn’t have time to go over this bullshit with her, Lalonde, only to essentially close it a moment further. Damn. He should have expected this inevitable change of tide. This WAS Rose he was talking to, after all. Sighing, Dave pressed back into his seat, his hands still tautly gripping the steering wheel.

“I’m FINE Rose. Everything is peachy. I love life, I love birds, I love the sky, everything is GREAT. Puppets are at an all time cool level, I totally enjoy getting my ass whooped by Bro every five God damn minutes, and I must say the inevitable conclusion of our highschool career looming closer and closer without my knowing of what the FUCK I want to be is just jingling my Joshuas in the most erotic fashion possible. Life is going swimmingly, Rose. Is that the answer you’re looking for?” He griped with a huff and sharp glare. She continued to smile pleasantly at him, now resting calmly with her arms propped on the windowsill.

“That bad, huh?” She asked curiously.

“Yeah. That bad,” Dave sighed, letting his forehead hit his steering wheel with a dejected grimace. A small BEEP followed, rewarding him with a snort from Rose. She reached out, running her fingers through his hair in a consolatory manner. He flinched at first, but ever so slowly sunk into the touch.  
“Life sucks, Rose.”

“Mhm,” she hummed in understanding, continuing to play with his hair. Dave wondered just how the hell she did this shit. One minute he was griping up a storm and spitting fire at her, then in the next moment with a drop of a hat, Rose got him pacified and willing to speak about everything. Well-almost everything, that is-which he greatly appreciated. As much as he was close to John, the majority of the secrets he confided in was with Rose. 

“Want to talk about it?” Rose offered, ruffling and combing his unruly bangs with her delicately expert fingers.

“Later,” Dave promised, slowly pulling up from the drivers seat. “I promised John I would go to his house after school today. You know how he is, always inviting me over and shit. God damn, now I have to deal with both the ladies AND the men macking on me. When does a guy get a break, Rose?” He asked sarcastically, giving her a sly glance above his shades with a lopsided grin. She only nodded her head sagely, continuing to fluff his hair with a pleased smile. 

“Oh yes. We all know how much John dotes on you, always inviting himself over to your house all the time,” she jabbed, giving him a playful tug, to which he simply winced at in return. “I don’t think you’ll ever truly know rest, Dave. You may have to live your entire life with the constant threat of being macked on by all individuals in a two mile radius of you. It just keeps happening, Dave. It _will_ just keep happening.”

“Then I suppose that is my burden to bear,” Dave continued, fiddling with the radio for a decent channel. “That, and the constant barrage of shitty references you pull on me from my old SBAHJ webcomic. Let the embarrassment end, Rose,” he whined, finally landing on a nice, decent hard rock channel.

“You’re absolutely proud of it and you know it,” Rose countered with a point of her finger. “I have been waiting three whole years for its return, Dave. In two more months, it will be four years, and the very thought makes me want to weep.”

“You keep account of how many days it’s been since I quit SBAHJ for good?” Dave asked, a deadpan expression on his face.

“Yes,” Rose replied curtly with an ever-growing grin. “Yes, I do.”

“Damn,” Dave whistled, relaxing into his seat. “Well consider me impressed. And honored. You know, if I had any intention of picking that shitfest back up,” he snorted, suddenly feeling a vibration in his pocket. “Oh son of a-hold on Rose.” Reaching into his pocket, Dave pulled out his phone, only to find yet ANOTHER friend was messaging him. When did the messages end? Why did everyone want to mack on him today? With Rose watching him in amusement, Dave turned his phone on to see just who in the HELL _THIS_ douchebag was.

GG: hey dave!!!! :p

Oh. It was just Jade. Her, he could pardon. Noticing Rose was still perched in the window silently observing, he smacked a hand to his face and slowly sank deeper down into his seat.

“UGH. Rooooose. These LADIES. Always macking on me. Guess what that just was, Rose. Go ahead: Guess.”

Rose took a moment to stare at him in silence before replying.

“Could it possibly be another lady, bent on the macking?”

“YES Rose. You hit the nail on the head. My God, no respect, these ladies. No self restraint,” he ranted, pushing the power button once before throwing his phone carelessly to the passenger’s side. He’d message her back later, but right now, all he needed to do was get out of the school parking lot and to Egbert’s house. And also get out of his other best friend’s analytical eagle-eyes. The things she could dissect from one simple message reply was impressive at best, and troublesome at worse.

“Indeed. Well, whenever you’re feeling up to fulfilling that promise you made me, I will be open for confiding. I’ll catch you later, Dave. Be safe,” Rose farewelled, giving Dave a small wave before she began to cross the parking lot towards her own car.

“Bye Rose,” Dave hollered back towards her, watching her receding figure to make sure she had made it back to her car. Just to be safe. “You too.”

He’d thank her for her professional offer of console later.

With another half-hearted sigh, Dave adjusted his iron grip on the wheel before he pedaled off, masterfully ducking and weaving through the cesspool of cars until he made his way onto the main road. With some generic ensemble of guitars, basses, drums, and teenage angst flooding his ears from the speakers of his sleek radio system (a glaring contrast from the beaten, rustic-looking pickup truck he had come to acquire from his Bro), Dave kept his eyes on the road, his foot on the gas pedal, his hands on the wheel, and half of his mind restrained by troubles, doubts-and above all else- musings. He’d have a lot of shit to wade through when he got home, but until then, he was content with holing himself away at John’s until procrastination was no longer an option.

He just wasn’t sure how to tell Bro he needed to quit.


	2. The Ride Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having visited the Egbert household after school in an attempt to delay the inevitable, Dave finally comes to terms with his looming responsibility.
> 
> That doesn't mean he can't fuck around for as much as physically possible beforehand though.

“No…No! _No! That’s not **fair!**_ ”

John lobbed the game controller straight into the ground as Dave won the seventh round of _Harry Anderson: Call My Bluff!_ in a row. Dave snorted at the rather melodramatic reaction, and with one hand still cradling his Dorito-dusted controller, the other hand blindly patted the floor to his right. With a bit of slapping, Dave’s fingers found the object he was yearning for. A victorious smirk blossomed across his face, and without a moment’s hesitance, Dave snagged the apple juice bottle from the ground. With his nigh unconscious gaming instincts kicking in, he resorted to clamping it in-between his thighs before twisting the cap off with the turn of his wrist; effectively opening the bottle in one solid, fluid motion. (All with one hand, too!) Throwing the cap carelessly behind him to land in some unspecified part of the room, Dave lifted the bottle to his parched lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down with each more-than-generous gulp. John watched him in disbelief, a mixed look of admiration and disgust contorting his features.

“It appears you’ve had more than enough practice using one hand to open apple juice,” John snorted with a wrinkled nose, bending down from his perch on the beanbag to recollect his rejected controller. “Not that I’m saying it was unnecessary to smack your cheese-dust covered hands all over the clean, white carpet! Because it was totally necessary, what you just did there.”

Dave grunted lazily in acknowledgement to his crime before his gaze slowly slid over to the carpet at his side. Sure enough, orange fingertips peppered the area, almost as if the tyrannical Garfield himself had felt up the place with his gross, lasagna-fondling paws.

Wait.

Would his paw prints even _be_ orange? They were black like every other cliché cartoon animal, right? Shit, maybe he was thinking of Blues Clues with the color theme-aligning paw prints. With an inwards sigh, Dave finished up the last of his apple juice in under a minute flat. He had to face the facts: There were just too many furry abominations running rampant in children’s media to retain the ability to keep track of them all. It was a hopeless battle, and looking at Jade, it was clear the anthropomorphic animal propaganda had won. Dave laughed at the sudden thought, though he quickly shoved it aside to refocus his attention back on John. (His little inward harangue _had_ reminded him though: He still needed to contact Jade back one way or another. He’d get on that later, he promised to himself.)

“Hey man: When I’m in the zone, I am _in_ the **zone.** I cannot possibly be bothered about the current condition of my fingers or to what effect they have on my environment. Do you see Anderson’s approving, shrewd grin on my side of the screen, John? You do? Good. Now look at _your_ side of the screen. Do you see the difference? Because I sure as fuck do. He’s so disappointed in you, John. Hell, he looks somewhat scornful, even. Do you know why Harry Anderson is so fed up with your shit , John? It’s because you have yet to achieve the aforementioned zone, dude. You have yet to reach full Zen, to understand the chakras and shit you must open in order to catch his God damn bluff,” Dave explained rather blatantly with a raise of his finger, his other hand preoccupied with the action of throwing his emptied plastic bottle behind him. It soared through the air, only to be caught midflight by the wall, where it clunked loudly on impact before reaching a muffled stop onto the carpet. John watched the rise and fall of the bottle’s voyage with an irritated countenance, his half-lidded glare turning from the defeated bottle over to Dave himself.

“I fail to see how catching virtual Harry Anderson’s bluff has anything to do with opening up any chakras or trashing your best bro’s house like a Grade A douchebag,” John sniped with a huff, turning his sullen gaze back to the screen in front of them. Dave genuinely smiled at his crankiness, and with his fingers unconsciously rising to his mouth to be deprived of their cheese dust coating, he nudged John on the arm a bit.

“Sorry, dude. I’m just fucking with ya’. I’ll help get the stains out of the carpet. But beyond that, I think it’s time I told you I have literally been cheating this entire time. This game is so shitty and old, digitally enhanced Harry runs on a generated system. He has a fucking order to his hands, dude. Like-I thought that was kind of obvious, but apparently you haven’t caught on yet? In-what-all of the five years you’ve owned this poorly funded mistake?” Dave laughed, looking over at John in expectancy. John himself appeared wordless, and with an agape mouth, he looked between both Dave and the TV. After a moment of shocked silence, he blinked twice in disbelief.

“Holy shit,” he muttered under his breath, to which Dave’s chuckling only increased two-fold. “What the _hell!_ You mean this entire time…?”

“’Just predicting his next hand, dude. The combinations aren’t even all that diverse. I think the programmers were just really, _really_ lazy with this shit. But I mean-who can blame them? If my boss came up to me, clapped a hand on my shoulder, and told me I’d start coding for a Harry Anderson videogame, I’d probably bullshit my way through the task just the same. Which reminds me: Why the _FUCK_ did you even _buy_ a Harry Anderson card game-videogame in the first place? Better yet: Where did you even _get_ a Harry Anderson card game-videogame? This piece of shit is _priceless;_ I think my eyes are watering up just at the mere thought of thirteen year old John going through all of the video games he could possibly buy, and then SOMEHOW-in SOME WAY-coming across this little gem and saying, ‘Yes. Hell. YES. This is the _one.’”_

John didn’t seem to care too much for Dave’s criticizing monologue. 

“ _Dude!_ We’ve ran BETS on this game! One night we even put all of our saved allowances on who could call the most bluffs, and now you’re telling me you’ve been CHEATING this entire time?” John asked in outrage, his arms flinging skywards in incredulity. Dave stared for a moment before shrugging his shoulders casually.

“Hey man: Technically it’s NOT cheating so long as I just used my mind to figure it out. Which I did. Cheating involves rigging the system, and to be fair, all I did was figure out how the system was rigged.”

John grunted in aggravation, his head lowered and back slouched forward as he rubbed at his aching temples. Dave couldn’t help but snigger, but in a half-hearted attempt at sympathy, he reached over and patted John on the back with his slobber-soaked hand. John sighed, though he made no move to reject Dave or his half-assed consolation.

“Man. I can’t believe this. And the worst part is, now that you’ve TOLD me, it all seems so obvious! Of _course_ there’s a system! Ugh. I feel like a total dumbass. Especially after I freaked out over how lucky you were that night we betted,” he grumbled into his hand, the reality of the realization sinking in. Dave slowly nodded his head with a look of sheer amusement.

“Hey dude: It’s chill. These things come to you one way or another. But seriously. This game is shit, John. I don’t even know why we’re playing it to begin with. Why do all your games suck ass?” Dave asked with an incredulous tone in his voice, his hand motioning over to the game rack across the room. John snorted, his eyes slowly rising from the floor to give the infamous game rack a meaningful grin.

“I guess thirteen year old me just had really, _really_ shitty taste in videogames. But I have too many fond memories of them to just give them away!...Not like I _could_ actually give them away, even if I wanted to. These games are so awful, I doubt anyone would willingly take them,” John admitted with a chuckle, beginning to rise to turn off both the console and TV. Dave smiled at the nostalgia he himself had when it came to John’s poorly-chosen collection. Many-a cool summer’s nights and glorious weekends were spent on the very red and blue beanbags (bought accordingly based upon John’s dad’s understanding of the two boys’ favorite colors) they were sitting upon, and John’s games-though shitty and nowhere _near_ what could be described as “entertaining”-had whittled their way into both of the teenager’s hearts. They sucked ass, but hey: John and Dave managed to have fun playing them regardless. (Mostly because they spent the majority of their time playing by making fun of the games themselves.)

“Well, I’m glad you’re not in denial about it. But hey: I think I’ve had enough of Harry Anderson’s dumb, impish, pixelated face. Clearly this wisecrack has had more time off of the shelf than he deserves, and his mischievous expression only further proves that he knows this. Let’s not give him anymore satisfaction and play something else,” Dave offered, making light of the consensual boredom both boys had breached at that point in playtime. 

“Alright,” John grinned, making a detour from the TV power switch to the game rack itself. “I have to admit: Giving the soulless reincarnation of Harry Anderson the unjust gratification of excessive acknowledgement is the last thing I want on my conscious. But hey, it looks like you’re in luck, Mr. Strider! We have a real shit-show ready to present itself to you today; all from the horrible, hormone-clogged year of two thousand and nine! Let’s see here,” John began, licking his lips as he squatted down to read off the spines of the CD cases. “We have _Little Monsters_ , _Ghostbusters II: The MMORPG_ , uh...This one with the weird question mark inside of a pumpkin...I think it was called ‘Jailbreak’? Yeah, _Jailbreak_! Then there’s _And It Don’t Stop_ , _Problem Sleuth_ , _The Caper Havers_ , _Bard Quest_...”

Dave zoned John out as he continued to list off all the equally mediocre titles he held in his possession. For all of the countless manhours the guy had supposedly put into the assortment, Dave knew for a genuine fact that NONE were of any redeemable quality. But that’s not what caused his attentions to falter. With a small buzz in his pant pocket, Dave’s screen-ward gaze turned to his half-submerged phone. Frowning, he pulled the iPhone out, turning it over to face him before lightly tapping the power button. As the screen blinked on, Dave’s breath was caught in his chest.

TT: Bro.  
TT: Come home now. I got something for you to check out. I think you’ll really dig this one.

He tensed up nigh immediately as the unmistakable shade of orange infiltrated his screen. Looks like his suspicions were confirmed (as if there were any room for doubt to begin with), and he was to expect one grand, mind-grating encounter when he got home. Which would be soon, if he knew what was good for him. Sighing through pursed lips, Dave pushed the power button once again, drowning out Bro’s message with a sea of black. Repocketing the iPhone, he turned around to address John, only to find him still ignorantly naming off videogame title after videogame title. Dave rolled his eyes. He could be on fire and the guy wouldn’t notice until he’d read the fiftieth shitty _movie-that-no-one-had-asked-to-be-turned-into-a-videogame_ videogame in a row. While John monotonously recited the contents of his second row of games, Dave stood from the beanbag, a hand raising to push his shades higher up on his face. He didn’t have it in him to facially mask his apprehension towards leaving and returning home.

“Change of plans, John,” He began with a sullen tone, his unpreoccupied hand resorting to shoving itself in his pocket. John paused from his ongoing cataloguing, his sky-blue eyes rising above the rim of his glasses to meet the glossy shine of Dave’s own pair of shades. Dave cleared his throat as he turned his head away to break the eye contact. He rubbed the space underneath his nose with the length of his index finger as if to satisfy an itch, only to repocket the hand a moment later. “Duty calls. I’ve got to bail. Sorry for cutting our bro-bonding short, but you know how it is,” he spoke flatly with a shrug of his shoulders. There was no other need for explanation. John, with a frown, nodded his head before rising. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking at Dave with a conflicted expression. It was always hard to let him go when he knew what was waiting for him at home. Or at the very least- the GIST of what was waiting for him back home. 

“Well...Alright, dude. I’ll see you later then, I guess. Rose and Jade were thinking about getting lunch tomorrow since school’s out and all. See you then?” He offered, giving Dave a sheepish shrug of his shoulders with a half-hearted grin. Dave smirked, affording John a wave of the hand before he began to make his way across the room to the bedroom door.

“Sure dude. Sounds sweet. I’ll make up for the whole ‘leaving your carpet a mess while I swiftly exit like a grandiose asshole’ thing by paying for your’s. Applebee’s?”

John snorted, giving Dave’s evading back an incredulous look. “Alright. I’ll take you up on your offer. But seriously, what is with you and Applebee’s?”

“Hey. First of all, fuck you John. Applebee’s? So great. The absolute shit,” Dave called back without so much of a glance, slapping John’s bedroom wall in one final farewell before he exited the room. He walked briskly beyond the unexplained, framed portrait of some random kid in a pair of beagle puss glasses (who looked an awful lot like Michael Cera in his honest opinion); beyond the intersections that lead to both the balcony and the bathroom (as well as John’s dad’s room); and beyond the incredulously disconcerting, abstract, colorful painting of a clown. (Thank God Dave never called it that out loud, or else Mr. Egbert would throw enough quantitative shit over it’s correct terminology-a _“harlequin”_ -that the moon would be sucked into orbit over the intense gravitational pull.) Completing the small, miniature journey, he began to descend down the stairs.“You just need to get over your unreasonable hatred for culinary perfection,” Dave bellowed through a cupped hand, his head tilting slightly up towards the top of the stairs as he landed on the ground platform. 

“Applebee’s is literally the _worst_ restaurant chain in existence, bro!” John’s voice cried out from above, muffled by the space between them. “Quit trying to defend it!”

Dave laughed at the comment, deciding that the witty repertoire was good and done for the day. (And that he was already too far away for his response to be heard.) Shaking his head slightly, he finished off the final three stairs, now finding himself in the living room, where the front door presided just across the room. With the faint smell of cake wafting from the kitchen to bid him adieu, Dave took no time to head on out. Right before his hand made contact with the doorknob though, a sickeningly sweet voice called out from the western-style doors of the kitchen.

“Dave! Is that you, dear? Are you leaving so soon?”

Dave grimaced, his hand ever-so-slowly sinking away from the doorknob and to his side. Oh boy. As much as he loved Nanna Egbert, now was _not_ the time to be sucked into one of her conversations. He had to get home pronto: There was shit to be done and things to be set straight, and he’d be damned if all of that was delayed by having another pie slammed in his face for the upteenth time. But...It _was_ Nanna Egbert, and he _wasn’t_ one to disrespect the elderly. Especially when said elderly was always unconditionally kind to him and endearing. With a dejected sigh, Dave ran a hand through his hair, fixing any awry parts in mere seconds. Years of experience had prepared him for on-the-spot appearance repair.

“Yeah, Misses Egbert. It’s me.”

“Oh! Splendid! I’ve been meaning to bake you some cookies! Young growing boys need their sweets, after all!” She laughed, the sounds of a metal tray clanging on the countertop resounding within the kitchen. “Come on in here and get yourself some! I’ll bag it up for you so you can take it home!” 

Dave smacked a palm to his face, but with much begrudging (though the allure of cookies _did_ perk his interest), he turned away from the door and headed towards the kitchen. Pushing the doors open, he gazed inside, only to be surprised to find no one there. Frowning, his head turned to fully scrutinize the scene. “Misses Egbert…?”

“BOO!” She screamed from his side, causing a rather effeminate, high-pitched scream to escape Dave. Jerking back and collapsing onto the wall, Dave clutched his chest, his eyes wide with shock from behind the guise of his shades. He stared at the elderly woman with a look of sheer terror, causing her to burst into a fit of giggles. She pressed her fingertips to her mouth, her aging eyes closed in mirthful amusement. For a sixtyfive year old, Jane Egbert sure knew how to scare the ever-loving _shit_ out of a sixteen year old highschooler. Exhaling deeply out of his nostrils, Dave allowed himself some time to regain his composure, though his body was still rigid with tension.

“Hoo hoo hoo! I got you good, didn’t I, Dave?” Nanna teased with a wink, giving the youngster a rough punch in the side. Dave grunted in slight pain, a hand slapping itself to the offended ribcage instinctually. Though he loved John’s grandma to bits, he had to admit she could be pretty intense for an old lady. Smiling weakly, he tried to laugh along with her, though it was forced and a bit choppy.

“Ha ha ha ha, oh yeah, Misses Egbert-erm-I mean Nanna, you really...got me good this time,” he mumbled, remembering that Nanna had insisted he refer to her as his own Nanna, seeing as he had none. Nanna laughed some more, giving the teenager a few good pats on the back before shuffling on over to a rack of cookies sitting upon the kitchen counter.

“You’re a riot, Dave! But for being such a good sport, I suppose I’ll have to reward you. It’s a good thing I decided to bake these when I did! I wouldn’t want you to leave our humble baking household empty handed!” She spoke cheerfully, bending down to open up a cabinet and pull out a box of plastic bags. Placing the box on the counter, she turned towards Dave with another wink and raised finger. “I know how much you love my cookies!”

Dave gulped. He really did love her cookies. With that same anxious, unsure smile, he nodded his head in agreement, his hands clasping together to wring themselves. For some reason, Nanna always made him somewhat uncomfortable, and he wasn’t sure whether that was due in part because of her unpredictable, trickster nature; her alien, unconditionally loving demeanor towards him; or the fact that he had unwittingly went into full detail over how unquestionably attractive her younger self was to John’s face. (Perusing old family albums had its consequences.) It was a mistake John had never let him live down, and though she was old, he could faintly detect the youthful splendor she once held. (Not that he was saying John’s grandma was hot or anything. Because that’d be weird.)

“What can I say, Nanna? You bake like no one else can,” he offered with a bashful grin, deciding to lean against the counter as she packed the batch of cookies carefully into a particularly large-sized bag. Jane chuckled at the compliment, swatting at Dave dismissively as she continued to bag up the deplorable amount of cookies resting on the counter.

“And don’t you forget it! I don’t want you seeking any baked goods elsewhere, young man! Once you’ve had a smidgen of the Egbert baking legacy, you’ll never want to go back to those rotten, store-bought boxes full of dust!” She spat, sticking her tongue out for good measure with a wrinkled nose and furrowed brow. Dave snorted at the incredulous contempt Nanna held for any form of pre-prepared cooking mix, but with a sagely nod of his head, he agreed with her passionate declaiment. 

“I one hundred percent agree with you, Nanna. Maybe some day those low-life, half-rate, self-proclaimed bakers will finally see some truth and open their eyes to the blasphemous sin of store bought baking mix,” Dave lamented with a somber tone, a hand sliding over to nab one of the last few remaining cookies on the tray. 

“I like the way you think, Dave!” Jane proclaimed playfully, picking up the final cookies from the tray before neatly depositing them in the plastic bag. Zipping the bag completely shut (a magical feat Dave could never help but marvel at each time she did it), she jostled the cookies to the very bottom before handing it over to Dave, which he gladly accepted with his free hand. Taking a giant chomp out of the cookie in his other hand, Dave closed his eyes behind his shades. _Oh my God._ He didn’t know how she did it, but Jane Egbert was one HELL of a bakestress. The soft crust of the cookie melted over his tongue, and as he chewed, the swirls of cinnamon exploded onto his tastebuds. It was a DAMN fine snickerdoodle cookie (his personal favorite, as Nanna knew for a guaranteed fact), and after years of experiencing Nanna’s homemade cooking firsthand, he had come to never expect anything less.

“Enjoying your cookie, Dave?” Nanna asked knowingly with a smug grin on her lips. Dave nodded his head eagerly, and with two more bites, the cookie had disappeared completely. Wiping his crust-covered mouth on the sleeve of his shirt, he nodded at Jane in satisfaction.

“Nanna,” he began, raising the bag up to eye level as he pointed at its contents with the other hand. “These cookies? They are. The BOMB.” His grin reached a genuine level as Nanna fell into another burst of giggles, the bag of cookies slowly dropping to his side. Dave wasn’t one to censor himself often, but when it came to Nanna, he could make an exception.

“Well then, I’m certainly glad you like them! I’d hate to leave you disappointed after getting you to expect so much from my cooking. But do come back soon, dear. Next time I’ll bake you a pie!” Jane promised, picking up the metal tray to deposit into the sink. Dave instinctively took a step forward to offer his assistance in cleaning up, but as soon as his foot hit the white, glossy tile of the kitchen, his memory returned to him. Bro was still waiting for him back home. Clenching his fist with a troubled expression, Dave pulled away from the kitchen, beginning to back out of the saloon doors as Nanna started the long, tedious process of cleaning the kitchen after her baking escapade. With her back towards him, she hummed absentmindedly, her time-worn hands making quick work of scrubbing in front of the sink. He hated to break his morale code and leave her to the dirty work of her labors, but knowing better than to risk it, he gave her one final nod before turning.

“We talkin’ apple pie here, Misses Egbert?” He inquired, pausing for a moment on the border of the kitchen and the living room with a hand pressed to the wall.

“But of course! And with only the _finest_ of apples,” she hummed, her cyan eyes never once leaving the dirty dishes in front of her.

“Hell. YES,” he blurted out, his head tilting downwards as his fist pumped the air once in victory. “Nanna, I love you. You know how to treat me right. I’ll come back soon. Tell Mr. Egbert I said ‘hi’ when he gets back from work,” he concluded, finally pushing out of the kitchen to leave once and for all.

“Will do, sweetie! So long for now, Dave!” She called back to him, giving him an amiable wave before returning to her workload. With a fistful of cookies in one hand and the doorknob in the other, Dave left the Egbert household, feeling both lifted and at a same length downtrodden upon exit. God, he hated leaving this place.

With not much else to do, Dave slunk over to the driveway and to his battered pickup truck. Unlocking the door, he slid inside, turning the ignition key and backing out moments before another white car entered and took his place. Nodding over at the familiar face in the driver's seat, he offered John’s father a small wave before driving down the street lamp-riddled road and into the night. One hand held limply onto the steering wheel while the other fumbled for the phone in his pocket. Pulling it out, he quickly unlocked it before jamming his thumb onto the messages app. Other than a few dead, undeleted conversations, two blue dots hovered over two particular slots. Jade and Bro. It was obvious which one he was going to tackle first.

TG: jade  
TG: yo sorry for the delay i was busy being harassed by egbert to the max   
TG: the guy just cant get enough of me jade  
TG: can you believe how desperate he is  
TG: like damn dude i am only a man  
TG: had to tell him i had to leave   
TG: duty calls and such  
TG: had my dear valued friend jade to attend to  
TG: he started bawling right there on the spot  
TG: all crying “no dave no dont leave me” and such  
TG: sigh  
TG: its hard jade  
TG: its hard being this beloved and no one understands  
TG: but anyways whats up

It took a while, but as his gaze flickered from the road to his phone and back, a gray speech bubble came up, indicating that Jade was typing on the other end.

GG: oh sure thing mr. popular pants ;)  
GG: ha ha ha but really i dont mind!  
GG: i just wanted to check up on you and see how you were doing!  
GG: did john tell you about our lunch plans yet?

Dave couldn’t help but grin at the relieving sight of Jade’s familiar green text. Looking up, he turned the corner of the nigh empty street before looking back down at his phone once again.

TG: hell yeah he did  
TG: he told me he wanted to go to applebees  
TG: i dont know what the guy has for applebees   
TG: but who am i to deny a man of his needs you know

Another long stretch of empty road. And then, an answer.

GG: mhm  
GG: sure thing dave  
GG: because CLEARLY thats what JOHN wants and not what the huge applebee fanatic of the neighborhood insists upon :P  
GG: you know  
GG: the notoriously regular patron of applebees whos infamous obsession is known far and wide??  
GG: heres a hint dave:  
GG: the notorious applebee fanatic is you!

Dave unconsciously scoffed.

TG: i dont know what youre talking about  
TG: ive never been to applebees in my entire life  
GG: wow!! what a big fat lie you just said there!  
GG: we have literally gone to applebees for your past three birthdays dave  
GG: and truth be told im not so sure if its an ironic fixation anymore as much as it is a genuine love for really shitty food!  
TG: applebees isnt shitty though  
TG: its just really low class food that you cannot help but tolerate  
GG: EYE ROLL! >_>

Dave laughed, pulling away from his phone as he made yet another turn on an intersection.

TG: but no seriously jade  
TG: you see the beauty of applebees is this:  
TG: yeah it sucks ass but when it boils down to it is it really all that bad?  
TG: its like  
TG: ah yes give me the shrimp & broccoli cavatappi  
TG: i have no fucking clue what a cavatappi is but what the hell the night is young and i am a hungry restaurant patron with $11.99 to burn  
TG: so you buy this fucking cavatappi right  
TG: and its like broccoli and noodles and shrimp  
TG: and youre thinking wait hold up why the shit did i buy a shrimp & broccoli cavatappi at APPLEBEES of all places   
TG: like what was the point  
TG: applebees doesnt necessarily scream “authentic italian cuisine” to you and even though you know literally everything there is reheated on site you still cannot help but be astonished at this horrible choice in meal  
TG: and so youre low key kind of pissed with yourself like god damn i just picked the bargain bin choice of menu picks  
TG: but hey you ordered and they delivered and you refuse to be that one asshole that makes their waitors life that much harder because you made a dumbass move  
TG: so you eat it  
TG: and its so ludicriously mediocre  
TG: like were talking typical microwavable meal levels of okayness  
TG: but its enough to reach the acceptable bar  
TG: so much so in fact that you just deal with it  
TG: then a few weekends later someone asks “hey want to go to applebees” and since the food wasnt even bad but wasnt even good to start with you just shrug and say sure why not  
TG: and so the cycle continues  
TG: and thats what i think is so beautiful about it you know?  
TG: its a constant loop  
TG: forever turning and forever repeating itself

There is a long, _long_ pause before Jade answers again.

GG: dave  
GG: as elaborate and admittedly funny and accurate as that long spiel was  
GG: i have to say it does not excuse the fact that applebees is and forever shall be just way awful on the food front!  
GG: but if it makes you happy i GUESS we can go :)  
GG: so long as *I* get to choose the next restaurant we go to!  
GG: deal? :B

Dave smiled at the screen, his thumb once again working at a rapid pace as his attention switched from the road to his phone in quick procession.

TG: deal  
GG: sweet! then its settled!  
GG: i would probably die if we had to go to applebees every darn time we decided to go out to eat together @_@  
GG: either that or id probably just kick you out of the lunch club! >:D

Dave paused, his expression going blank before a smirk slowly enveloped the side of his face.

TG: the lunch club  
TG: is that supposed to be the shitty alter ego of the breakfast club  
TG: with more actual food than touching heartfelt spiritual discoveries over our inner vices and domestic issues  
GG: well it WAS supposed to be a lame pun off of that title before you went and made it complicated!  
GG: but since were on the topic  
GG: why WAS it called the breakfast club anyways?   
GG: i dont think there is any instance of breakfast in that movie whatsoever

Just a few more miles and he’d be home. Dave pushed the thought away as he continued down the road.

TG: you raise a fair question harley  
TG: but before we delve into the inner meanings and connotations of the name “breakfast club”  
TG: i propose an even better name for our restaurant-savvy crew  
GG: heheheh  
GG: well im all ears dave! what do you have in mind?   
TG: have you ever considered the name  
TG: the lunch bunch?

There was a moment of stillness on the screen, but sure enough, after a long minute, the gray bubble blossomed onto the side of the screen.

GG: dave  
GG: that was so lame i think i just lost a part of my soul that ill never truly get back ever

Dave really laughed at that, more than pleased with the reaction.

TG: i apologize for your clear inability to cherish a good pun  
GG: good pun my BUTT! >:P  
GG: ha ha ha, but seriously dave  
GG: im glad you finally picked up your phone!  
GG: we all have been worried about you you know :(  
GG: have you been feeling ok lately?

Dave tensed up immediately, his desire to continue the conversation dropping in a heartbeat. Grimacing, he fumbled for a reply, not too prepared for the sudden question.

TG: what  
TG: yeah of course  
TG: just busy and so on  
TG: you know how it is when it gets close to the end of the school year  
TG: tests and all  
TG: dont worry about me im fine

His grip on the phone tightened as those ominous gray periods returned to the screen.

GG: if you say so dave…  
GG: but between you and me i think theres something going on that youre not telling me!   
GG: or rose or john for that matter!  
GG: dave, as a friend who loves you very much, i hope it doesnt offend you when i say im going to find out what youre hiding!  
GG: my dad IS the deputy, you know! i am almost completely positive some of his sleuthing skills have been passed onto me genetically >:)

Dave smiled weakly with his shoulders slumped over in exhaustion. He appreciated Jade’s concern, really he did, but it was for the best she never knew. Or Rose or John, for that matter.

TG: although i doubt years of law enforcement training can be genetically inherited  
TG: consider me fully briefed and shaking in my little rubber booties  
TG: but seriously jade  
TG: im fine  
TG: and though i appreciate your concern  
TG: i promise id tell you if something was up  
TG: you just have to trust me and let some things remain untouched on you know?

There was a lull in response, but inevitably, Jade responded.

GG: oh alright… :C  
GG: im sorry for pressing dave  
GG: but really i do care about you!  
GG: and i want you to know that ill be here for you no matter what!  
GG: you just have to quit being a big dummy and stop acting so mysterious and aloof all the time :P  
GG: you dont have to keep EVERYTHING hidden from me you know!

Dave snorted, though his lingering dismay was gradually rising as the sight of his house amongst the other rows of houses became evident in the distance.  
TG: point taken  
TG: but how can i continue to allure all the hot babes into the strider stratagem if i allow everything to be set free out in the open?  
TG: are you not allured jade  
GG: oh i dont think you need to worry about that dave  
GG: we ladies seem to have a weakness for cute whiney babies with an unhealthy infatuation for applebees ;)  
TG: im blushing

Dave smiled, a hand rising to rub his mouth as he pulled into his own driveway. He quickly shifted into the parking gear before turning off the truck. The houses around him were shrouded in darkness, and the only other sound present was the harsh shrill of crickets in the grass. His smile turned to a frown as he understood his procrastination had come to an end. Now all that was left was to face the music.

TG: jade i hate to bring this enthralling conversation about applebees and the breakfast club and poorly masked consensual flirtation to a close but  
TG: im home and i got to go and talk to bro about something so ill see you tomorrow alright  
GG: oh ok dave :(  
GG: but yeah ill see you tomorrow!!  
GG: please actually get some sleep tonight. you looked like a zombie last time i saw you what with all of those dark circles under your eyes!  
TG: but i thought the angsty insomniac look was a huge seller for the ladies  
GG: well then CLEARLY you have a lot to learn about the ladies dave!!  
GG: but that is ok because me and rose can teach you  
GG: i understand the female gender is an enigma to boys :B  
GG: especially huge goofball boys such as yourself!  
TG: you got that right  
TG: applebees videogames and sports are the only things i really know anything about  
TG: jade before we depart i need to know whats a boob?  
GG: omg  
GG: goodnight DOOFUS <3  
TG: night  
TG: <3

He clicked his phone off, allowing his back to thunk lightly into his seat. With a deep exhale, Dave looked up at the ceiling of the car. He had to get out. He knew he did. But...the question was...did he _have_ to? Yes, he concluded rather swiftly. Yes, he did.

Yanking open his car door, Dave hopped out of the truck before slamming it shut. Locking the door, he cautiously maneuvered around the car and towards the sidewalk to the front door. His house wasn’t anything special, just your average, run-of-the-mill suburban household of a middle class American family. He just wished the events that went down inside of it mirrored its appearance. He stopped right before the front door, his anxiety kicking up a storm as his hand wavered over the doorknob. Frowning hard, he went over the game plan in his mind. First thing first, he would deal with whatever it was Bro had to show him. Then, he’d confront him over his more recent escapades. Enough was enough, and something told him that even Bro understood his own limits. He just needed to be reminded of their existence is all. If worse came to worse, they’d settle it the old fashioned way: Strife until one of them couldn’t stand properly. (Which usually ended up being him.) But this time he was determined to win. He HAD to win. His point would not go unconsidered. 

Bracing himself, Dave unlocked the door and turned his wrist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ZOINKS! Ha ha, howdy folks! I apologize for the HUGE timespan between this chapter and chapter one! Lack of motivation went hand in hand with a small bout of depression and so on, but eventually life went on and now I'm doing A-OK! Like always, criticism and commentary are always welcome and appreciated! I'm sorry that this chapter is a pretty lax one! The more eventful stuff comes next chapter, but until then, enjoy some good ol' world/character relationship building!

**Author's Note:**

> And so it seems you have finished reading! First off, congratulations! Second off, thank you again for reading! I appreciate it! This, as mentioned earlier, is my very first fan fiction in a personally made AU I hope to continue if enough interest is shown towards it. The gist of the plot is already conceived, though the fine details will most likely be picked up as the story goes on. Some of the fine details not yet decided would be the ships, though once an established ship is made, it will go right into the tag field! There will also be several other characters in future chapters, though for the time being the characters already tagged are the only ones in/mentioned in chapter one. Anyways! If you liked this, please voice your opinion! Or, if you have any criticism, please do not hesitate to voice it! (So long as it's constructive!) I am aiming to improve my writing as I go along, so any pointers you lovely readers have would be much appreciated! And that about concludes it! Comment or kudos if this is worth expanding on, and once again thank you for reading! Have a nice day! <3


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